


One Fine Day

by GrandNinjaMasterRen



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Assassination, Assassins & Hitmen, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Drugs, Gen, Gotham City Police Department, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Kidnapping, Mental Instability, Minor Canonical Character(s), Murder, Organized Crime, Secret Organizations, Superheroes, Supervillains, Underage Drug Use, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18261791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrandNinjaMasterRen/pseuds/GrandNinjaMasterRen
Summary: One fine day, a billionaire decided to become a cop. One fine day, an orphan broke out of juvie. One fine day, a street rat became apprenticed to a mob boss. One fine day, a company heir gained a taste for blood. One fine day, everything changed.





	1. The Acrobat/ Initial Change

Gunfire rang through the street. A man of almost forty, detective badge clipped to his belt, fiddled with his gun. Laughter echoed across the battlefield as the detective caught sight of his assailant. Ebony hair, olive skin and a bright smile all set atop a gaudy red and black leotard flashed through the air as he moved. The young man giggled to himself as another bullet from the detective's gun ricocheted off a pipe near him.

The detective flinched as another bout of hoarse laughter, childish taunts, and sharp-edged playing cards rained down on the officers below.

"Shoot him!" the detective shouted. His partner yelled back from his hiding spot behind a dumpster,

"He keeps dodging!" The detective shook his head in frustration.

"Damn it all to hell. Call for backup. Clearly we can't handle the goddamned **Acrobat** on our own." The detective fired back. His partner grit his teeth and shot another bullet towards the man.

"Whose bright idea was it to chase **him** without backup?" his partner shouted. The detective tried to fire at the Acrobat again, but instead of the expected bang, a tinny click sounded. The Acrobat laughed and countered with one of his sharp-edged cards, the Ace of Diamonds, which buried itself in the detective's forearm.

"Miss me, Miss me. Now you gotta kiss me." The Acrobat singsonged as he cartwheeled away from another bullet.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Eighteen Years Earlier:

"Are you sure about this?" Commissioner Gordon asked the twenty-one-year-old standing in front of him.

"My mind has been made up ever since **that night**. Do not try to dissuade me." The young man said solemnly.

"Alright, if you're sure. Welcome to the GCPD, **Officer Wayne**."


	2. Detective Wayne

Commissioner Gordon stood in front of his officers. The police station held an aura of tenseness.

"Alright. As you now know, there's been a breakout from Arkham. We have confirmation as to which inmates have escaped. Edward Nygma aka the **Riddler** , Detective Crowe will take point on that. Victor Fries aka **Mr. Freeze** , Detective Cohen, you'll take point. And Richard Grayson aka the **Acrobat** , Detective Wayne, take point on this one. Break." Bruce edged closer to the commissioner.

"Sir, If the Acrobat has escaped, are we going to be dealing with the **Joker** and **Harley Quinn** as well?" Bruce asked.

"The Acrobat will undoubtedly try to free both of them, but Arkham security has been doubled. It's unlikely he'll attempt another breakout so soon. Catch him before he gets the chance to free the others." The commissioner said.

Bruce nodded.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three Days Later:

Bruce pulled the card out of his arm. Blood oozed out of the wound. No major blood vessels had been hit. Good. A laugh bubbled up in Bruce's throat. He felt a surge of horror.

The card he had been hit with was laced with **Joker Venom**. The laughter was getting harder to suppress. Bruce's partner scrabbled in Bruce's pockets for a moment before producing the antidote. Detective Burke spoke as he dosed Bruce with the antidote,

"Lucky you're prepared for anything, huh?"

Bruce glanced around. It was too quiet. Burke noticed.

"He got away. Damn that bastard."

"Are you afraid of **clowns**?" Bruce asked, wrapping his jacket around his bleeding arm with a little difficulty.

"I just find it hella creepy to have a twenty-something-year-old acting like he's four or something. Do you need an ambulance?" Burke responded with a pointed glance at Bruce's makeshift bandage.

"Just drive me to the hospital. I'll manage."


	3. Penguin's Protege

Years ago:

"Boss, we caught a rat trying to steal the tires off your limo." The thug said.

"I want to see him." Oswald Cobblepot demanded. The thug clomped out and came back half-carrying, half-dragging a small, filthy, struggling boy by the collar.

"Lemme go, you fucking bitch!" the waif shouted.

"I hear you were trying to steal from me. Do you know who I am, boy‽" Cobblepot asked. The boy's eyes widened slightly as they focused on the man in front of him.

" **Penguin**." He whispered in equal measures of fear and awe. Then, a sudden harshness overtook the boy's body.

"You should really install some traps or something on those tires. I could give you some pointers…" Cobblepot laughed and signaled for his lackey to drop the child.

"I like your spunk, kid. How would you like to be my apprentice?" Penguin offered.

"My name's  **Jason**. Not kid." The boy said, straightening out his clothes.

Penguin offered a hand to shake. Jason took it. The deal was sealed.

* * *

Now:

 **Red Hood** , now in the safety of his room, pulled off his titular helmet. A soft swish of fabric alerted the mob boss to his subordinate's presence. Red Hood turned to see the leather and Kevlar clad assassin. The metal mask that covered the lower half of his face was painted as a dragon's maw, roaring in triumph.  **The Dragon**  dipped his head in greeting.

"I need a distraction. Free some of the Arkham inmates." Red Hood stated.

"Any preference as to which?" The Dragon asked in his soft, flat voice. Red Hood thought for a moment.

"Someone flashy. Someone like…" Red Hood trailed off.

"The  **Acrobat**?" The Dragon finished flatly.

"Perfect."


	4. Home Life

**Janet Drake**  peeked into her son's room. Even at noon, Tim was in bed. He looked so small, asleep as he was. Janet sat on the edge of the bed. She brushed Tim's heavy bangs out of his face. He stirred slightly.

Tim blinked blearily at Janet. She smiled at her child. Janet could not help but notice the bags under his were more pronounced, and his skin was paler.

"Mom?" Tim mumbled sleepily.

"How are you feeling, Timmy?" Janet asked.

"Tired…"

Janet placed her hand on Tim's forehead. He was slightly warmer than normal. Janet stroked her son's cheek, praying that Tim wasn't getting sick again. Tim closed his eyes, leaning into his mother's touch.

"I'll let you sleep, Timmy."

* * *

Later that night:

Tim fingered his Dragon mask. A hand on his hip startled Tim out of his thoughts. The scent of cigarette smoke and the feeling of slightly chapped lips pressed against his neck was all Tim needed to know that Jason was there. Tim lowered his eyes, set down the mask, and allowed Jason to turn him around. Jason pressed a soft kiss to Tim's lips. Then he spoke.

"The shipment is in  **warehouse sixteen**. Bring it to the base by morning. By this time tomorrow, I want all of our dealers on the west side selling  **Blur**."

It didn't take much to realize that  **Red Hood**  was the one speaking, so the  **Dragon**  moved to obey. Donning his mask, the Dragon set off to accomplish his mission.


	5. Circus of the Dead

**Tony Zucco**  flinched as the  **Acrobat**  leaned in closer. The younger man was grinning as if Tony were his birthday present or something.

"You're gonna die here." The Acrobat said brightly. Tony struggled against the rope that bound him.

"Go to hell, freak." Tony spat. The other man seemed to find that hilarious, as he burst into maniacal laughter.

"You  **made**  me what I am… I suppose I should thank you for that," The Acrobat trailed off.

"Or I could just kill you." Another murderous smile graced that statement. The Acrobat stood to his full height and clapped his hands. The lights came up.

They were in a circus tent, the many seats filled with bound captives. An audience, Tony realized. Bad enough that he'll die at the hands of the child he didn't manage to kill, but the damn brat is turning Tony's death into a spectator sport.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," The Acrobat began, "Gather round, gather round. Sit back, relax, and please, stay in your seats, kick your feet up and grab some popcorn! Oh, and of course- " He broke into a fit of laughter.

"-Lest we not forget,  **Enjoy the show**." That malevolent grin made another appearance. Two thugs dressed in the clown costumes of the Joker's henchmen dragged Tony up to the trapeze that towered over the ring.

They hung him from the wires.

Tony's eyes widened.

Surely, he wouldn't.

A light snapping sounded. Tony's fearful eyes met  **Richard Grayson** 's triumphant ones.

He would.

The wire broke.

As Tony fell, he heard screams and laughter overlapping.

* * *

The Acrobat laughed and laughed and laughed, unable to stop.

He was  **dead** , finally dead.

He laughed.

It was unsatisfying.

He laughed.

All that effort, wasted.

So, he laughed.

Silent tears rushing down his face, sides aching, grin threatening to split his cheeks, he laughed.

Joker was right.

He laughed.

It was so unfair.

He laughed.

Dick wanted to **scream**.

Instead, he laughed.


	6. Mob Rule

Jason trailed after Cobblepot. The mob boss was heading to a meeting with  **Carmine Falcone** , one of the top crime lords of the city, and Penguin's top competitor.

"Now that you're older, you need to take on more responsibilities instead of playing around with that boy-child of yours, Jason." Cobblepot said to the teen beside him. Jason nodded with determination.

"I can think of no one better to inherit my empire than you, my boy." Jason smiled sunnily at his mentor.

"I hope that's not for a long time, sir." Jason quipped. Cobblepot laughed, patted Jason's shoulder, and led them inside. Falcone sat at a table set for two. Cobblepot took the other seat while Jason stood behind him, idle, but ready.

* * *

As Jason left the building, hounding Cobblepot's steps, the world  **burned.**  Both Coblepot and Jason were thrown back as their limo exploded. Jason caught Cobblepot as they skidded across the ground. Heedless of his own injuries, Jason turned Cobblepot over.

The man had been hit with shrapnel. A large shard of metal protruded from Cobblepot's chest. Jason moved to touch it, to pull it out.

"No, boy." Cobblepot coughed. Jason cradled his mentor's head in his lap.

"I'm going to  **die**  here, Jay. Don't mourn me.  **Promise**  me that. Don't mourn me. Grow powerful. Become… someone else, become some **thing**  else. A…  **symbol** … something unassailable…"

"Like you did,  **Penguin**?" Jason asked, blinking back tears. Cobblepot placed his hand over Jason's.

"Better…than I…did…Jay…" Cobblepot murmured. Jason choked back a sob.

"I'm going to revive a legend. From now on, I am the  **Red Hood**." Jason whispered hoarsely. Cobblepot smiled weakly.

"…Good…boy…" The man stilled. A single tear trickled down Jason's face. Just like that, the floodgates opened, and Jason cried.

When his tears were spent, Jason stood. The sun was beginning to set. Gathering his mentor's body in his arms, Jason returned to the Cobblepot mansion.

* * *

Jason picked up his phone and called Tim. As usual, the younger boy picked up instantly.

"Jay!" Tim said brightly.

"Coblepot's dead," Jason said stiffly.

"Are you okay?" Tim's voice was laced with worry.

"I need you here." Jason said, his voice wavering.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

* * *

Tim showed up, still wearing Jason's too big, leather jacket, his sparkling sapphire eyes filled with concern.

"I need your help, Tim," Jason began, taking his hand," I have to take over Penguin's empire. I can't do it alone. Everyone is, older, smarter, stronger than me. Which is why you of all people must never betray me." Tim blinked solemnly.

"From this day forward, I am your weapon. Use me as you would an  **assassin** , in the dark and without mercy."


	7. Fallen Bird Caught

Bruce had just gotten home when his phone rang.

"Wayne." He said.

"We've got a hit on the Acrobat. Traffic cams picked up a couple of  **Joker goons**  grabbing people off the street and taking them to the park.  **Tony Zucco**  hasn't checked in with his parole officer either." Burke said. Bruce stood, heading for the door.

"He's going to try to get  **revenge**  for his family murder. Meet me at the park."

"You should stay put; you're injured."

"Be there in ten." Bruce said before hanging up.

"Alfred, I'm heading back out." Bruce called.

"Do be careful, Master Bruce." Alfred responded.

* * *

Bruce had some trouble navigating with one arm wrapped in gauze and a sling, but he got to the park and saw Burke among the flurries of other cops.

"You're an  **idiot** , Wayne." were the first words out of his partner's mouth.

"There's a  **fairground**  deeper in, towards the west. We'll check there first." Bruce responded. The two detective began walking a distance away from the other officers.

"What do you know that I don't?" Burke asked.

"I was the first officer on scene for the  **Grayson murders**." Bruce confessed. Burke opened his mouth to ask something, but Bruce cut him off.

"The call came in. It was late. I secured the scene, but, the boy… Richard, didn't speak English. I ended up playing translator because he did speak French. He gave us what we needed to lock Zucco up, but after...Eight years old, can't speak a lick of English, and thrown in  **juvie**  because the orphanages were full. That's where  **Harlequin**  got her hands on him, I think… I almost  **adopted**  him, you know." Burke, who had until then been silent, spoke.

"What he's become isn't on you, Wayne."

"I could've -"

"It isn't on you. It's on the people who took advantage of him." Burke repeated. The two froze as they saw what was before them. A  **circus tent**  stood on the fairground.

"Call it in" Bruce said softly. Bruce edged forward warily.

The entrance to the tent wasn't guarded. Bruce peeked in.  **Bound civilians**  lined the benches,  **broken trapeze wires** hung limply, a  **bloody stain**  slowly spreading across the ground.  **Laughter** rang over the whimpers of the fearful crowd. The Acrobat was doubled over in agony of his harsh laughter. Bruce was about to enter the tent when a hand covered his mouth.

" **Don't** even  **think**  about it,  **Wayne**." Burke hissed in Bruce's ear. Bruce nodded. Burke slowly released his partner.

"Backup's en route. Two minutes."

A few minutes later, the area was swarming with police. Bruce was the first to enter the tent. The Acrobat was still laughing. With quick motions, Detective Burke cuffed the man, dragged him towards his car.

"Richard Grayson. You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent."

"Waived." The Acrobat said, laughter still in his voice. Burke half-tossed the younger man into the squad car, slamming the door behind him.

"As efficient as ever, Detective Burke, Detective Wayne." Commissioner Gordon said, "Mr. Freeze and the Riddler are still loose so be careful. Burke, you're being temporarily moved to the Fries case, and Wayne-" Bruce looked up "-you're on medical leave. I don't to see hide or hair of you until that arm's healing." Bruce sighed.

"Yes, sir." He murmured reluctantly.


	8. In the Dragon's Lair

Detective Burke knocked on the door to the Drakes' manor house. A maid opened the door, wiping her hand on her apron.

"Oh, I'll tell the missus, you're here to see her." The maid said, ushering the pair into the sitting room. Bruce picked up a picture from the mantle.

"Not exactly where I'd expect a  **mob enforcer**  to live." Bruce said, setting down the family picture.

"That's an understatement." Burke snorted.  **Janet Drake**  entered the room warily.

"Can I help you?" She asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Bruce stepped forward.

"We need to speak with your son." Janet stepped back subconsciously.

"What for?" She said nervously.

""He is under suspicion for  **murder**." Burke said, never one to mince words.

"Murder‽ He's been sick for the past week!" Janet shouted. A soft voice cut through the tension.

"Mom, is something wrong?" The boy in question asked, peeking into the room from around the corner. The boy was wearing a too big, Wonder Woman t-shirt that hung down to his mid-thigh and sweatpants that were rolled up at the ankles.

' _And probably at the waist as well'_ Bruce conceded. His clothes made him look even smaller than he was.

"No, Timmy. Everything's fine." Janet said quickly.

"Timothy Drake, where were you three nights ago?" Bruce asked. The boy's fever-flushed face crinkled as he thought back.

"I think I was in my room." Tim said mildly.

"You think?" Burke repeated flatly, raising an eyebrow.

"He's been in and out of delirium all week." Janet confirmed.

"That begs the question, how a man killed by  **The Dragon**  got  **Tim Drake's** DNA on him?" Bruce challenged.

"You have overstayed your welcome," Janet said icily, " Don't come back unless you have a warrant."

As the two detectives walked back to the door, Bruce caught sight of Tim's half-lidded, sapphire blue eyes  **looking**  at him,  **through**  him, as though Bruce were a puzzle the teen couldn't quite solve, or a mouse the cat couldn't be bothered to chase, but still wanted to hunt. Then the boy blinked and the spell was broken.

Bruce followed his partner to their car. As they started back down the road, Burke spoke.

"You think the kid's telling the  **truth**?"

"I think he hasn't  **lied**  to us." Bruce said ambivalently.

"But, he's not giving us the  **truth**  is he? Damn... The kid's the damn linchpin in this whole case." Burke said, signaling a turn.

"What if- hear me out- What if he was  **kidnapped**? What if the Dragon kidnapped Drake while the kid was out of it?" Bruce theorized.

"Kidnapped him and returned him in time for no one to notice?" Burke said skeptically,"Why? What did the Dragon need from Drake? If Drake was kidnapped while  **delirious** , he wouldn't have noticed or remembered what happened, but he's still at home, that means we can rule out the Dragon moving into kidnapping, there weren't any  **ransom**  demands; Drake wasn't killed, so clearly, he wasn't the target...Fingerprints would've been more helpful than DNA… Fingerprints!"

Bruce started at his partner's sudden shout. They pulled in to the precinct parking lot.

"Drake is probably key into the security for most, if not all, of his family's fortune. " Burke continued getting out of the car.

"If the Dragon had the kid's fingerprints, he could do a lot of damage. One of the Drakes' may be the Dragon's next target." Bruce said worriedly.

"Let's get a protective detail on them." Burke agreed.


	9. Tear Out My Heart

Tim slid the Dragon mask over his flushed face. He clenched his trembling hands into fists. Smothered a cough.

 **The Dragon**  slipped out into the night. His target, a middle-aged man, was asleep in bed. Falcone's half-witted, two-bit thug didn't wake as the Dragon drew his  **feather-shaped dagger**  and carefully, methodically plunged it four times into the man's neck, two stab wounds on each side, like the  **fangs**  of some unearthly beast had bitten through his skin.

 **Tim** sneezed. His hands shook, forcing Tim to drop the blade. Tim coughed and sputtered, unable to breathe. Tense, aching minutes passed, before Tim regained his breath and composure.

 **The Dragon**  knelt to retrieve his knife.

 **Tim** fumbled with the dagger for a moment before tucking it away, and vanishing as best he could into the ashy abyss of Gotham's skyline.

* * *

Jason was showering when Tim showed up. The mob boss stepped unabashedly out of the shower, not bothering to cover himself. Disgust filled Jason's eyes as Tim  **stumbled**  away from the window.

"I have completed the mission" Tim intoned, but his flat, 'Dragon' voice was hoarse and still held hints of a cough in it.

"Return to your cave,  **Dragon**." Jason spat. He was furious with his assassin.

"Your  **weakness**  will  **not**  be tolerated again. I don't want to see you until you can complete your missions in a timely manner,  **Tim**." Jason said  **savagely**. Tim felt like he was going to  **cry** , but he dutifully nodded, and left.

* * *

Tim hastily changed his clothes and hid away his assassin garb. He burrowed under his blankets, warding off the early spring chill. He was wearing Jason's clothes, a faded, too big Wonder Woman shirt, and a pair of sweatpants Tim had stolen from his lover one night. A single  **tear**  trailed down his face. The  **tears**  came faster and faster, until Tim was  **sobbing**  uncontrollably.

The door to his room opened and Janet Drake rushed to her son's bedside.

"Timmy, baby. It's okay. It's okay. Mommy's here." She said comfortingly, feeling Tim's forehead.

"Oh, dear! Timmy, you're  **burning**  up!" Janet placed a cool washcloth on Tim's forehead and gently wiped the tears from his eyes. She stayed with him until he fell asleep.


	10. With Your Bladed Claws

Red Hood was holding court over his minions. His temper was shorter than usual, but not one of his lackeys could pinpoint why the Dragon hadn't been seen in a week.

 **Jason**  scowled. He was pissed. Not one of his various underlings had the skill or mentality to fill the  **Dragon** 's vacated place at  **Red Hood** 's side. Jason didn't  **want**  anyone, but  **Tim**  to be with him. His heart gave a pang at the thought of the younger boy. Jason regretted his treatment of his lover. Tim didn't  **deserve**  that kind of rough handling. Jason didn't deserve Tim.

"Sir?"  **Red Hood**  focused in on the man who had spoken.

"What?" He growled, helmet masking the tones of his voice. The man flinched back slightly.

"My friend in the  **GCPD**  let it slip that the Drakes have been placed in protective custody. Not only that, but he says that the  **Drake boy** 's DNA was found on one of the  **Dragon** 's victims." Red Hood bore the news impassively.

"There's also a rumor on the street," Another man put in, "That  **the**   **Riddler** 's after the Dragon too."

"Why the hell would that low level crook be after  **my**  assassin‽" Red Hood thundered. Tim wasn't  **Jason's**  anymore, was he? Red Hood wanted the Dragon; Jason  **needed** Tim. His mind made up, Jason resolved himself to track down his beloved and apologize,  **beg**  for forgiveness. Red Hood strode away from his henchmen. He had a mission to complete.


	11. Talon's Legacy

**William Cobb**  stood in front of the  **Court**. Their empty, masked faces stared blankly at him, but the  **former assassin**  was far too used to it to be bothered.

"The  **Grey Son** of Gotham is beyond the Court's reach,  **Blood Swan**." Cobb automatically straightened at the name; it was ingrained in him to respond.

"I am aware,  **Grandmaster**." Cobb stated. A number of the Court shifted uneasily, soft whispers broke out, barely heard even with Cobb's enhanced hearing.

"We need a new  **Talon** , Cobb." The Grandmaster said, sounding idly annoyed.

"Find one, Blood Swan." the Grandmaster ordered Cobb.

"Dismissed." Cobb bowed as he left.

...

* * *

Cobb paced and prowled the rooftops. He needed a  **child**. One with  **potential** , one with  **athleticism**  and  **grace** , one who  **wouldn't be missed**. The sky was darkening quickly, the last rays of sunlight fading to deepest black, strangled by the smog of the city. Cobb heard a soft scrabbling sound, like the gravel-crunching footsteps of someone small trying to be stealthy. A quiet click, and Cobb knew his picture had been taken.

"Come out, child." Cobb said lightly. He heard a squeak, and the child appeared. Dark hair and almost deathly pale skin, the boy had the unhealthy look of someone who had never been in the sunlight. He appeared to be about six. A child his age shouldn't be out in the Gotham nights.

"What is your name, child?" Cobb asked coolly. The boy pulled his camera closer, like a shield from the attention.

"Tim…" He whispered shyly. Cobb smiled encouragingly, kneeling down to match levels with the six-year-old.

"Where are your parents, Tim?" This boy could be the next Talon, of that Cobb was sure. Tim shrugged.

"Home," he said quietly, "They don't notice when I leave."

"Do you have a last name, Tim?"

"Drake.  **Tim Drake**." This was perfect. The boy was neglected by his parents and was the offspring of one of the few families not under the Court's influence. The Drake child would become Talon, Cobb vowed.

"Little Duckling, do you want to come to a party with me?" Cobb asked, standing. Tim stepped forward, curiosity on his face.

"Will it be a fun party?" Cobb set his hand on Tim's shoulder. Tim peeked up at the man through his heavy bangs.

"I think you'll enjoy it. We play hide-and-seek most of the time." Tim's face lit up.

"I love hide-and-seek. I'm a champion." Tim said as he took Cobb's hand and allowed the ex-Talon to lead him down, down to the catacombs where the Court lurked, down to the labyrinth the boy would soon haunt, down to where even the stones whispered the rhyme every child in Gotham knows by heart…

" _Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,_

_Ruling Gotham from its shadowed perch behind cement and lime._

_They watch you by your hearth, they watch you in your bed,_

_Speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send Talon for your head."_

Upon hearing the rhyme, Tim drew closer to Cobb. Like all Gotham children, the boy had clearly heard the horror stories about the shadowy court that ruled their city with an iron fist, but Cobb couldn't care less. He presented the boy to the assembly.

"You have ordered, Grandmaster, and I have obeyed.  **Timothy Drake** will be  **Talon**." Masks betrayed nothing, but the Court displayed shock in their posture. The Grandmaster merely tilted their head.

"Very well,  **Blood Swan**. You will train the boy to be a proper Talon." the Grandmaster decided. Tim clutched his camera tighter like a safety blanket, his knuckles turning white. He took a step back.

"I don't…" Tim whispered, "I don't want to  **hurt**  people…" Cobb, the only one who had heard the boy clearly, laughed.

"It's too late for that, boy." Cobb said, setting his hand on Tim's narrow shoulder.

"Tim." The boy said firmer, "My name's Tim."

"Not anymore, boy. You are the  **Black Mallard** , and you will be  **Talon**." the Grandmaster said, nodding at Cobb, giving him permission to begin the boy's conversion and training.

Cobb grabbed Black Mallard's wrist, yanking him towards a subtle door. Tim's camera clattered to the floor, pieces breaking free and bouncing across the marble tiles. Black Mallard struggled to free his wrist from his new trainer's grasp. Cobb stopped, roughly tugged Black Mallard closer and  **slapped**  him. Black Mallard went still, almost limp. Cobb led the silenced boy like a lamb to slaughter, through the door, into the labyrinthine halls. Cobb dragged Black Mallard into the laboratory, pushed him into the plexiglass chamber. Black Mallard strained against the older man, but Cobb closed the chamber and activated the sequence that would flood the vat with the  **electrum serum** to begin  **Black Mallard's** transformation into  **Talon**.

The boy's panicked screams became gurgles as the liquid filled the container. Black Mallard choked and sputtered on the serum as it quickly replaced the air in the chamber. The boy stilled as the liquid filled his lungs. Cobb smirked in satisfaction.

* * *

"You are the  **Black Mallard** , and you will be  **Talon**." the Masked Man said with a nod in the direction of the man who had brought Tim here. Tim regret going with the man.

Tim's gray-haired companion grabbed Tim's wrist and yanked him to the side. Tim's camera was jarred from his hands. It clattered to the floor, pieces breaking free and bouncing across the marble tiles. Tim struggled to free his wrist from his captor's grasp. The man stopped, roughly tugged Tim closer and  **slapped**  him. Tim went still, almost limp, fighting back tears unsuccessfully. Tim obediently followed the man leading him with the resignation of a lamb being led to slaughter. Tim stumbled blindly as the man led him through a door Tim hadn't originally noticed and into the maze-like corridors. Silent sobs wracked Tim's small frame as he was half-dragged by his captor into some kind of lab.

The man pushed Tim. Off-balance, Tim fell into some kind of container. Tim strained against the older man, but he closed the chamber and pressed a few buttons. The chamber began to fill with an icy liquid that  **burned**  Tim's skin where it touched. Tim screamed. He was terrified. He didn't know how to swim in water, much less the acid that was lapping at his body. The vat filled faster and faster. Tim coughed and sputtered, the liquid burned his throat and lips as it quickly replaced the air in the chamber. Tim's vision grew blacker as he felt his lungs give out. He breathed out a stream of bubbles and breathed in  **pain**. He succumbed to the darkness.


	12. Riddles and Reconciliation

The  **Riddler**  flicked his hair out of his face. The small room he occupied was covered in newspaper clippings, plastering the walls with images of the  **Dragon** 's victims. Multicoloured threads linked various pictures and articles. The Riddler grinned.

" **I know you**!" He shouted, his eyes glinting with a sickening light. The Riddler pulled a picture from the wall and tucked into his pocket as he left.

**_..._ **

* * *

**Edward Nygma**  walked into the precinct with hands aloft. Bruce flinched and drew his gun, leveling it atthe green-clad man.

"Freeze, Nygma!" Bruce shouted. The rest of the force froze, drew guns and leveled them at the man.

"For thousands of years seen only in tale/ The winds as a sail for one thunderous gale/ Shining stores, rich in lore/ The burning temper like Earth's core." Nygma said quickly. Bruce's brow furrowed.

"A  **dragon**?" Bruce responded. Nygma smirked.

"Quite so,  **Detective**. And I hear you've been playing knight to save a damsel in distress. Have you found your dragon's lair?" Bruce scowled.

"No? Pity," Nygma paused for a moment, " I can help you." Bruce took a step forward.

"What do you want, Nygma?" Bruce growled.

**"** The same thing you do, my dear Detective." Bruce scoffed at the other's answer. He lowered his gun and grabbed his handcuffs.

"And what do you think that is?"

"What has no ledger, no purse, no sheath for its blade/ But is its point, the coin, the whole heart obeyed/ What isn't to reimburse, but is a debt squarely paid?" Nygma posed. Bruce thought for a moment.

" **Justice** " Bruce decided; it wasn't quite a question.

"Yes," Nygma said, setting his jaw.

"Why?" Burke asked, coming up beside Bruce, gun still drawn and leveled. Nygma sighed.

"Two months ago, you two caught the  **Acrobat** -"

"We know. We were there," Burke interrupted impatiently, "Get to the point."

" **I know who the Dragon is**."Nygma said rapidly. Bruce exchanged a glance with his partner. Burke nodded.

"Cuff him." Bruce clicked his handcuffs around Nygma's wrists. Burke holstered his weapon as Bruce took Nygma to the interrogation room.

**_..._ **

* * *

The Riddler spread his hands as much as the cuffs that attached him to the table would allow.

"I give you one of your most wanted criminals, and  **this**  is how you thank me?" the Riddler said, jingling the cuffs. The Detective's partner crossed his arms where he stood against the wall.

"We want the  **truth** , Nygma." The partner said darkly.

"Just answer the question and you'll be on your merry way back to Arkham in no time." The Detective said calmly.

"I did," the Riddler insisted, " **Timothy Drake** is the  **Dragon**." The partner uncrossed his arms and stalked over to the table. He slammed his hands down.

" **Tell me**!" He roared. The Detective put a hand on his partner's shoulder. Breathing heavily, the man pulled away, allowing the Detective to sit down across from the Riddler.

"Where's your proof, Nygma? You know we can't do anything without evidence," the Detective challenged, "Especially not with so  **controversial** a suspect; the Drake's are a very influential and respected family, and Timothy is only seventeen." The Riddler rattled off the address of his safe house.

"You'll find all your evidence there. All the pieces fit together for you, Detective." The Riddler smiled at the Detective. The Detective smirked.

"That isn't going to get you out of going back to Arkham, Nygma."

"I would expect nothing less from you, Detective."

**_..._ **

* * *

Jason slunk through the darkening streets. He ran, flinging himself forward, towards his goal: his beloved. Tim wasn't asleep when Jason tapped on his window. The youth was reading a book:  _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , Jason's favorite. Jason slipped easily into the room. Tim didn't acknowledge Jason, but then again, from how Jason treated him the last time they saw each other, he deserved less.

"I'm  **sorry** , baby. I know it doesn't fix anything, but I'm sorry. I  **promise**  not to do it again." Tim set the book down. Jason settled himself at Tim's feet, put a hand on the younger boy's knee.

"Please, baby. I'm sorry. I  **love**  you." Tim made a soft noise in the back of his throat, like the quiet, strangled caw of a bird.

"... I love you too" Tim said eventually . Jason let out a breathy half-laugh, half-sob. He leaned up and kissed Tim's pale lips. Tim pulled away almost immediately to cough. Jason stood, scooping Tim into his arms and settling the boy into his bed. Jason brushed Tim's bangs out of his face. He snuggled up to the sickly boy, wrapping his arms around Tim's waist.

"Go to sleep, baby." Jason whispered huskily. Tim hummed, and, eventually, obeyed.


	13. Confrontation

Janet Drake daintily nibbled on the corner of her croissant, where she sat next to her husband on the sofa. Detectives Wayne and Burke sat in the armchairs across the coffee table.

 

"- at least until the Dragon is caught." Burke was saying.

 

"Caught? You buffoons don't even know who he is!" Jack shouted.

 

"Shouldn't your son be here as well," Detective Wayne cut in, "This will affect him." Janet's smile became slightly strained.

 

"Yes, I suppose it does; I'll go get him."

 

Janet walked upstairs to Tim's room, pausing at the door when she heard a speech. She listened fondly; he was reading aloud.

 

She opened the door.

 

"Timmy, it's time to-" Janet's breath caught in her throat.

 

An unfamiliar man sat easily in the cushy reading chair, Tim neatly placed on his lap as he read a book aloud in another language.

 

"Who are-" Janet began, but the man cut her off.

 

" **Walk back downstairs, Mrs. Drake**." He said evenly, not even looking up.

 

" **Get your hands off my son**." She whispered fiercely. This caused the man to smile. Slowly and methodically, he brought his hand from Tim's lower back to the air.

 

Tim glared at the man, but instead of slipping out of his grasp, Tim grabbed the man's hand and put it back on his body. Tim nuzzled the man's throat sleepily.

 

"...keep reading..."

 

The man set the book down and stroked Tim's face with his free hand.

 

"As much as I would love to finish the Odyssey, it's quite rude to ignore one's host, isn't it, pet?" Tim hummed noncommittally, leaning in to the touch.

 

"As you say."

 

The man turned his attention back to Janet.

 

"Walk back downstairs, Mrs. Drake. Tell everyone that Tim will be joining you shortly. Say **nothing** of my presence, and do not make any attempt to forewarn the good detectives, hmm?" Janet was on the verge of protesting.

 

"I can assure you, you will not **live** to regret it." Shaking in fear for both herself and her son, Janet obediently walked back to the sitting room.

 

"Tim will be joining us shortly." She said softly, repeating the words verbatim. Wayne frowned.

 

"Mrs. Drake..."

 

* * *

"Hello again, Detective." Tim's soft voice cut in. Everyone glanced up. Tim and Jason were standing at the top of the stairs.

 

" **Jason Todd** , the **Red Hood**." Burke said in dawning recognition. Jason laughed, one hand curling around Tim's hip, the other training a gun on the group below.

 

"What are you doing to **my son** ‽" Jack thundered.

 

"Nothing he doesn't want." Tim responded icily.

 

"Timothy!" Janet shrieked.

 

"Jason." Wayne said quietly. Jason tossed his head haughtily.

 

"Come now, **Detective** , let's now quibble."

 

"What do you want with the kid, **Hood**?" Burke bit out. Jason's smirk turned to mock hurt.

 

" **My dear Detective** , there's no need to be so **cold** with me," Jason began, gesturing grandiosely with his hands, "You see, you've been making things a bit **difficult** as of late, Detective. And I'd like that to stop." Wayne shook his head empathetically.

 

" **Jason** , you're **better** than **this**."

 

"So, it's **Jason** , now, is it, **Bruce**?"

 

"Jason, please..." Bruce pleaded, taking a step forward.

 

" **ENOUGH**!" Red Hood roared.

 

"That's enough, Detective. A simple ' **yes** ' or ' **no** ' is all that's required." He said delicately.

 

"Jason, I cannot allow you to keep **breaking the law**. I'll have to take you in." Bruce said grimly.

 

"So that's a ' **no** **'**?"

 

"So it would seem." Tim cut in, his voice shocking both the cops and the civilians.

 

" **Timothy**!" Jack cried, fearful for his son's safety.

 

"Come along, **Dragon**." Red Hood said pleasantly. The Dragon followed docilely, giving no indication that he heard the screams and pleas of his parents.

 

"Timmy!" Janet shouted, grabbing the Dragon's wrist.

 

He **twisted** his arm out of her grasp, and using that momentum, **flung** her into the **ground**. Her neck gave a sickening **crack**. The Dragon payed no attention, returning to Red Hood's side without a second thought.


End file.
